


Hope

by randomalia (spilinski)



Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Gen, Jedi, Loneliness, M/M, Post-Revenge of the Sith, Pre-A New Hope, Tatooine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-28
Updated: 2015-06-28
Packaged: 2018-04-06 14:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4224381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilinski/pseuds/randomalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your cloak," she says, taking in the heavy fall of the deep brown cloth. "It looks like a Jedi's."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Obi-Wan on Tatooine, set between RotS and A new Hope.

Obi-Wan finds the parts he needs for his power generator mere moments after stepping into the small shop. It is cooler in here, and very still, piles of mechanical objects lining the walls in static heaps. He does his purchasing in the middle of the day when most of the locals are at home, pausing like sleepy animals until the day slips into milder afternoon. He keeps to himself as much as he can, not so much cultivating as earning the name hermit: one figure keeping his head down, his hands unnaturally lax at his sides, presenting no threat and little interest. A loner who speaks as little as possible, crossing monologues rather than pushing through into conversation. There is nothing he has to say, after all. Nothing he could possibly share when his life has become this barren secret.

He steps up to the counter hidden into one corner of the shop, nodding to the woman standing behind it. Her hair is greying, her shoulders slumping. She has obviously seen many of these constant summers, but seems not too much older than Obi-Wan himself. Is this how he will look, when he has waited through as many desert years as she has? Just another old man etching out days as they pass by? 

Callused hands set the conductors in front of him and he looks up, catching his breath when he sees the woman staring. She is gazing at his robe with an intent expression, and he feels his heart thud hard in his chest.

"Your cloak," she says without preamble, taking in the heavy fall of the deep brown cloth. "It looks like a Jedi's."

Obi-Wan steps back immediately, unable to stop the suspicious manoeuvre. His eyes are wary. Defensiveness has rushed up within him, a heated drumming along his nerves.

Surprisingly, the woman's expression grows soft.

"Jedi came here once, you know. Years ago, when I was just a girl. I got to see one of them." Her voice has grown wistful and distant, and all the air seems to hold its breath.

"Kit, that's my young brother, he came rushing into the house saying the Jedi had come." The woman smiles, the worn lines on her face crinkling. "We didn't believe him," she chuckles. "Not at first, but then we saw... Jedi didn't hold with slavery, you know. We thought maybe we were going to be free."

Obi-Wan stares, caught, startled by the sudden upflight of years left so far behind him. He'd forgotten. He'd forgotten not everyone hated and ridiculed the Jedi. That some had looked on Jedi Knights as an embodiment of hope.

The Shopkeeper shifts and resettles the parts on the slate green counter, warped and cracked by the constant heat of the desert at the door, and leans her hip against it. Her eyes have brightened to those of a young woman, lit by innocent and desperate desires, by secret thoughts of wonderful things.

"Kit told me there was a Jedi talking to Ani - Ani was a boy from round here they took away with them, you see. You wouldn't have known his Ma, I suppose, being new. She's passed on already. I thought maybe the Jedi had come at last to stop - to kill the Hutts. You might think Jabba's bad, but Gardalla the Hutt was the foulest thing to ever slither on the sands, I swear. She got incinerated by a bounty hunter so I hear, oh, many years ago now."

Her voice grows quiet, tapering off into the still shadows of the shop. "I remember that afternoon like it was yesterday. Standing in the doorway watching the Jedi, he was out in the sun, so tall and still and powerful..."

Obi-Wan hardly dares draw breath. His jaw is gathering pain where he has clenched it so tightly. _His name was Qui-Gon_ , he wants to say. _His name was Qui-Gon and he was my Master. I am a Jedi too._

He doubts he would find voice to share it. His throat has closed, and he reaches futilely for calm that has burned away under twin suns. Under the bright knowledge that someone else here remembers Qui-Gon Jinn.

The sharp, sunburned air hangs on the silence between them until the woman shakes her head slightly, clearing the memory back to the dark places of her mind. "Well, they're all gone now aren't they?" she says sadly. "I suppose he went the way of the rest of them." Her slow fingers reach for the metal objects waiting before her and begin to wrap them up in thin tan cloth for carrying. "I hope not though," she adds softly, seemingly to herself, the memory of an old smile on her face.

She looks up at Obi-Wan at last. "Sorry, friend. I have a tendency to ramble on, so my husband tells me. That all for today, then?"

Obi-Wan bows his head slightly, and struggles inwardly for something to say.

"Yes," he replies at last. "Thank you."

The suns are still high above when he leaves the little store, the sky clear and familiar. 

 

*


End file.
